


One Fine Day

by CobaltCube (2sp00ky4y0u)



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Androids, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7638832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2sp00ky4y0u/pseuds/CobaltCube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walking home with you hand-in-hand, now that sounds like a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Fine Day

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse me for my mini-hiatus. Lately I've been doing everything but writing. So here, you animals, have some fluff to contrast my last Fukase/Oliver story. Enjoy it. Savour it before I slumber for another eight hundred years.

It was a very nice, poppy beat. Bouncy, a lot of fun. And his voice blended into it so well, even if it wasn’t the genre he was tailored for.

Oliver felt like quite the lucky one right now, getting to hear him live from the booth. Plexiglass separated the two boys, one side filled with panels and screens and fiddly bits and fidgety bobs, the other cluttered with unoccupied microphones dripping down from the ceiling. All empty except for one, of course. Fukase stood behind it, his face so close that his nose almost touched the pop filter.

The stream of Japanese kept on flowing; for once he was projecting his normal singing tone, not the rasp of his softer voice. Oliver readjusted his headphones and pushed the slider for the master volume up a tick. He was enjoying himself, yes, tapping along to the tune with a finger without realizing it, but for some reason the input was very quiet today. Maybe he should check in with someone about it when this session was over.

Which was now. The song was only three minutes and fourteen seconds long. Oliver could tell how it annoyed Fukase because he always preferred a minimum of three and a half minutes for each song. Any shorter and he complains about how his time had been wasted.

The rasp again: “Are you there.” and the Engloid came back with a start.

“Yeah yeah, ‘m here. You did a good job today. I’ll send the file to the music library and leave a note for someone to do all the editing stuff, ‘kay?”

Oliver learned a while ago that if Fukase didn’t reply to a question, it usually meant yes. Which was definitely silly and also a pain, but it is how it is. Everyone had their quirks and Fukase happened to be one big quirk held together with code sequenced by tired interns at Yamaha HQ.

Ten minutes later the two were walking out of the studio and into the brisk, sunny day. Crispy leaves were scattered all over the sidewalk at a breath of wind, and before Oliver knew it he was scribbling up new song ideas in his head. He was in the middle of trying to find a good rhyme for “pavement” (“containment”? “save it”?) when a siren wailed in the distance. What was it called - the Doppler effect? Yes, the Doppler effect made its cry doubly unnerving, and the pitch jumped higher as the ambulance flew by them seconds later, a smear of white and blue topped with flashing lights and a coattail of leaves trailing behind the whole thing.  

For Oliver, it was simply the sound that was creepy, not the implications. Which meant he could instantly switch his attention back to how cold it was. He looked to Fukase. His eyes were still following the ambulance when it swung around the corner, because he was probably wondering why it was ever called in the first place. He liked getting tangled up in details like that.

“Hey, how’d you pronounce ‘ambulance’ for the first time? ‘Ambalance’?”

It was the blonde’s way of gently tugging the focus to something else since he had a bad feeling Fukase was going to be asking about stuff like _911_ and _paramedics_ and _emergency response vehicles_. It wasn’t that Oliver didn’t like answering questions, it was just that he didn’t get it either.

“You thought ‘rhinoceros’ was ‘rhisocerus’, too.” He kicked a piece of gravel away from him. Then he noticed the redhead’s scarf. It was mint green and looked like it was made from cashmere, very soft, very warm. Oliver buttoned up his peacoat with a sigh. Neither of the boys had anything to worry about because an android’s internal temperature could be much lower than a human’s without suffering the consequences. In fact, it was probably better for it to be low lest they ran the risk of overheating, but for Oliver, it just felt nicer to be cozy in his jacket instead of dealing with the 10ºC air raking itself all over his skin.  That was why he had been saving up of his money for a new coat that wasn’t wafer-thin.

Still no response from Fukase. He sighed again, or, more accurately, he huffed. “I think the instrumental for that song you did earlier was, like, inspired by Lamaze, right? But you made the VSQ yourself? Good job I guess,”

“Rin gave me the instrumental from Lamaze’s archives, yes,”

“… Yeah? And the VSQ?” To think it only took over five minutes of worming it out from him.

“It’s mine. Flower helped me with editing it though,”

“Are you telling me you just put your own lyrics over something someone else made?”

“Rin told me Lamaze scrapped it but gave it to her in case she ever wanted to use it,”

“Aaaah. I got’ya,”

Oliver looked back towards Fukase to see him smiling a bit. “I trusted that you would.”

“Butterflies in the stomach” was probably one of the dumbest expressions Oliver had ever heard, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t apply to him right then. If anything they felt like they were having a rave in there, so he tried to circumvent those giddy feelings by returning the smile, but bigger. “Yeah! See, I’m not so much of a knob after all!”

The house was only two more blocks away. All things considered, they were making excellent time. The wind pushing at their backs probably didn’t hurt matters either. The ends of Fukase’s scarf were lifted when a particularly testy gust swiped at them, and Oliver batted them back down. He waited for the cat comparison but it never came. He hummed, probably to himself, or maybe nobody in particular. Who knows.

“Hey, Fuka,” Oliver’s mouth hesitated at that nickname since he didn’t really think it fitting to call him that. Oh well, too late now.

“Mm-mm.” A two tone reply like a doorbell.

“’Bout the ‘ambalance’ and ‘rhisocerus’ stuff, things, you do know I was just pulling your leg about that, right? I wasn’t trying to make fun of you or nothing. And actually, uh…”

Fukase was on his left side, so Oliver couldn’t use his peripheral vision to figure out where he wanted to go next by judging his expression. So he stopped himself in his tracks to turn towards the other Vocaloid, dropping into his trademark mumble without realizing it while his good eye flickered between Fukase and the nearby scenery. Which was quite nice, by the way. Jack-o-lanterns, trees rattling with the last of their leaves, a few decorative tombstones here and there. It wasn’t like autumn was his favourite season for no reason (hey, would you look at that, a rhyme!).

“Hem. Well, I thought it was pretty cute, y’know? I mean, uh…”

The butterflies were throwing a party now. Oliver might have even been shaking a teeny bit while delivering that last line. He tried to shrug it off, literally, by rolling his shoulders half-heartedly in his own way of taking a stab at the whole awkward situation. “Just, you know. I don’t get to see that part of you a lot, ‘specially not these days.”

There was a moment of quiet before Oliver felt a hand very lightly place itself on his back between his shoulder blades. It was Fukase guiding him off of the sidewalk and onto the grass, maybe so they weren’t blocking the path for anyone else that could be using it. Leaves crunched underneath their feet and a dog barked in someone’s backyard. The blonde estimated his heart to be going at around, oh, a hundred and thirty BPM, give or take. Fukase slid his arms around his waist, pulling him so close that their bodies were practically parallel to each other’s, and Oliver rested his hands on his upper arms before leaning his head onto his shoulder.

The scene probably looked horrifically PDA, to be honest.

“You still think I’m cute?”

“What? Oh, yeah, you’re cute. Why wouldn’t I think that?”

No answer, but he could’ve sworn he felt Fukase’s chest rise and fall with a quiet sigh. He had to laugh a bit. “You don’t believe me?”

“Mm. It’s not that,”

The cashmere scarf caught Oliver’s breath when he laughed again. He slung his arms around Fukase’s neck and finally looked him right in the eye. “So what is it then?”

“… Oliver, there’s people watching,”

“Yeah?”

“We can wait until we’re home to talk about this.”

“Don’t give me that. I know you’re smiling, you git,”

“Git?”

“A moron, daft, thick, Fukase-“

A kiss. A long one too. And it took an extra minute for that train of thought to get back to its station after that. Meanwhile, Fukase was grinning.

“Hey, there’s people watching, Oliver,”

A few tries at forming a coherent sentence backfired for the poor Engloid, so he just growled instead: “You don’t get to use dirty tricks like that on me when I’m in the middle of something!”

“Mm-mm.”

“I’m serious, you tosser!”

“You think I’m not?”

Fukase pulled away from the embrace and slipped his hand into Oliver’s to intertwine their fingers together. “What don’t I have to be serious about? I love you too.”

Perhaps that was the only thing that saved his skin from total public, British annihilation. Or at least until they got home, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> I referenced Lamaze because one of his songs was a starter for this fanfiction. Specifically, it's that new Rin one of his that I don't know the English name of because no one has translated it yet - the Japanese title is 難聴系男子が倒せない- 鏡音リン. And if you prefer, it can be the song that Fukase sings at the beginning.


End file.
